


Might As Well Be My Fault

by Anonymous



Series: I Must Be Lonely [4]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:52:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3816199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Routine and rhythm and figuring it all out.</p><p>And dinner with the Gallaghers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Might As Well Be My Fault

Ian stretches out on Mickey’s bed on his stomach, chin in his hands. “I like your day job. You look all...rugged.”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “I’m installing new cabinets. I could be on one of those stupid reality TV shows.”

“The Property Brothers.” Ian scratches the tip of his nose then looks at Mickey through his lashes. “You think they’re banging each other?”

“Ew. Gross. Dude, they’re fucking brothers.”

“So you do.”

“No. Not...not _fucking_ brothers. Fucking _brothers_.” Ian can’t help laughing at Mickey’s indignant face, and it just gets worse when Mickey flips him off. “You’re such an asshole.”

Ian presses his lips together to keep from laughing any more. “I’m picturing you as Bob Villa.”

“Oh, fuck you.” Mickey fastens his belt. “Anyway. I’m not rugged.”

“I don’t know.” Ian reaches out and runs his fingers down Mickey’s thigh. “Faded, worn jeans, t-shirt, and a flannel shirt over the top of it.”

“It’s fall and there’s no heat in the house yet. I’m not a fucking lumberjack or something.” Ian gets on his knees and moves to the edge of the bed, grabbing Mickey’s hips and tugging him close before sliding his hands around to Mickey’s ass. Mickey raises an eyebrow as Ian leans against him. Ian smiles and Mickey strokes the curve of Ian’s skull, the fuzzy softness of his buzzed short hair. “Don’t you have homework?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

Ian huffs a breath and pulls back enough that Mickey can see him pout. “I can do homework after you leave.”

“Except after I leave you’re going to get on the phone with Mandy and talk about movie stars or make-up tips or whatever.”

“I told you, she just tells me about all the girls you fucked in high school in a desperate attempt to be straight.”

“Yeah, well, it obviously didn’t work.”

Ian reaches up and traces Mickey’s lower lip with his thumb, pulling it down and opening his mouth slightly so that when Ian leans in to kiss him, his tongue slides neatly against Mickey’s. “Good,” he murmurs into Mickey’s mouth.

“You have homework,” Mickey reminds him as he pulls back. “And I have work.”

“You’re so mean.”

“Cruel and unusual punishment, I know.” Mickey kisses the top of Ian’s head and then rumples his hair.

“It is. It’s behavioral psychology.”

“You’ll survive. Promise.” Mickey sits next to Ian on the bed and grabs his work boots. “So, we’re doing the thing this weekend?”

“Which thing?” Ian nuzzles Mickey’s shoulder then bites it. “Having sex for hours?”

“That’s a given. The other thing.”

“Having sex for hours sounds better.” Ian bites Mickey’s earlobe this time, then traces hot breath along the outside of his ear. “Not even get out of bed. Just leave the door unlocked so the pizza guy can walk right in.”

“And see your ass hanging out?”

“Why not?”

Mickey slides his hand into the small of Ian’s back. He catches Ian’s chin with two fingers and turns him to face him. He kisses him slowly. “Because,” he says softly against Ian’s mouth, “your ass is mine.”

Ian laughs, not pulling away. Mickey’s voice is low and warm and Ian doesn’t want to let him go. “Pretty sure it’s the other way around.”

Mickey kisses him again. “Hoping it’s mutual.” His tongue slips into Ian’s mouth, deepening the kiss.

When Ian pulls back, his breath is shaky. He spends so much time feeling like he’s about to fly apart, he’s beginning to think that being with Mickey is like living on a fault line. “Definitely mutual.”

“So, are we doing the thing?”

Ian frowns and then his face relaxes into a smile. “Oh. That thing. The having dinner with my family thing.”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “Yeah, asshole. That thing.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Ian shrugs, because he won’t make Mickey go. He also won’t beg him to go. Like a Gallagher and like the whole Gallagher clan is a lot. Ian knows that. He has to live with it every day.

“Really?” Mickey shakes his head. “We’re going to do this again. I said I’d go, though I have no clue why your family wants to meet me...”

“Because I like you.” Mickey stands up and Ian grabs his belt loops and tugs him back in front of him. He rests his hands on Mickey’s waist and slips his fingers under his t-shirt. “So I want to subject you to all of them so you can run in fear before I get too attached to you.” Ian’s pretty sure it’s too late for that, but he has no intention of telling Mickey that.

“Why do you do that?”

“What?”

“Put yourself down.”

“I don’t.” 

“Yes, you do.” Mickey squats down and looks Ian in the eye. “Do your homework. See you when I come home to change.”

“They’re going to tell you I’m crazy.” The words are out before Ian knows he’s going to say them.

Mickey kisses him. “I have to go to work, Ian. Tonight after work, okay? Come over in your booty shorts and get glitter all over me.”

“That doesn’t sound like talking.”

“You always talk.” Mickey smiles and kisses him again. “See you tonight, okay?”

“You won’t blow me off?” Now that it’s out there, real, Ian’s urgent. He needs to say what he needs to say, because the idea of losing Mickey is in his head now. 

“No. Odds are damn good I’ll blow you, but I won’t blow you off.”

Ian laughs and kicks Mickey in the shin. “Go to work, dickhead. And don’t forget your lunch on the counter.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

Ian flips him off, even though he knows Mickey can’t see him. But he hears Mickey laugh anyway, so he knows Mickey knows it too.

**

Mickey has no desire to meet Ian’s family. The sound like a bunch of judgmental pricks from what Ian’s told him. He does, however, seem to care about what Ian wants. He has absolutely no fucking clue how that happened. It probably has something to do with why Ian was in his bedroom this morning for reasons that had nothing to do with fucking.

He calls Mandy when they have a break, lighting a cigarette as he waits for the call to connect. One of these days, he actually will give these damn things up.

“Douche.”

“Skank.”

“Did he wise up and dump your ass?”

“We’re having dinner with his family this weekend.” The phone goes absolutely silent and he pulls it away to make sure they didn’t get disconnected. “Mandy?”

“You’re doing what?”

“His brother knows about us and told his eighty other siblings.” He shrugs even though he knows Mandy can’t see him. “So that means, like, fucking spaghetti or something.” Mandy’s still silent and Mickey lets out an annoyed breath. “Will you fucking say something?”

“Can you tell me what it’s like to be in loooooooooooooooooove?”

“Fuck you.”

“I can’t even call you pussy-whipped. And dick-whipped sounds like kinky sex.”

Mickey rubs his forehead. Why? Why does he do this to himself? “I hate you so fucking much.”

Mandy laughs then she’s quiet, but it’s a different kind of silence. When she speaks again, her voice is soft. “It’s okay to be happy, Mickey.”

He speaks too fast, defensive. “I know that.”

“But do you believe it?” He chews his lower lip and Mandy sighs. “You know you just answered the question, right? Fuck Terry and fuck everyone else. He’s gone, Mickey. You don’t have to keep hiding, keep running.”

“I barely know him.”

“You are such a fucking girl, Christ. Throw a dog into this, and you’re a fucking Hugh Grant movie.”

“Fuck off. Just because you’re my sister doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass.”

“I like him.”

“Yeah, well.” Mickey rubs his bottom lip with his thumb. “He ain’t interested in what you got.”

“There are ways around that.”

“You’re going somewhere gross with this, aren’t you? Just stop. Stop now.”

“You’re a catcher, right, Mick? I can do that.”

“Stop it. I’m hanging up now.” Mickey shudders. “Seriously, you’re going to make me throw up here.”

“Get a strap-on...” Mandy starts laughing at the noise Mickey makes, and it’s all he hears as he hangs up. He shudders again and leans against the wall, grinding his cigarette out under his boot. He rubs his thumb over his phone screen and pulls up his text program. The picture of Ian is him in a beanie, flipping off the camera. He sent it to Mickey one night while he was at work. Mickey’d gotten shit from everyone at the club about his smile.

Fuck. He is so far fucking gone.

_‘did you finish your homework like a good boy?’_

_‘if I say yes do I get a prize?’_

_‘good grade?’_

_‘your motivation skills need work.’_

_‘what do you want?’_

_‘you know what I want.’_

_‘tonight?’_

_‘you wont be too tired?’_

_‘you wont care if I fall asleep will you?’_

_‘well still talk?’_

_‘yeah pick up beer. might need to get me a little tipsy.’_

_‘dont have to.’_

_‘want to just havent before’_

_‘yeah?’_

_‘yeah gotta go back to work. cabinets wont install themselves’_

_‘see you tonight’_

_‘dont get too turned on dancing for creepy fucks’_

_‘like you?’_

_‘not creepy’_

_‘says the guy with the knuckle tats’_

_‘not creepy fucking badass’_

_‘whatever you need to believe’_

_‘go to class asshole’_

_‘ <3’ _

Mickey stares at Ian’s last text. He knows it doesn’t mean anything, but it still catches him by surprise. The corner of his mouth quirks up and he puts his phone away.

The rest of the day drags by, even though Mickey’s busy. It probably has something to do with the promise he gave Ian. Anticipation. Apprehension.

Distraction either way.

When the day finally ends, Mickey hurries home, knocking on Ian’s door as he walks past to let Ian know he’s home. They don’t have much time between him getting home and having to be at the club, so he shouldn’t bother Ian at all, but that doesn’t stop him. Ian pokes his head out the door just as Mickey’s unlocking his. His grin when Mickey smiles at him is blinding, and he follows Mickey into his apartment.

“How was work, dear?”

Mickey tosses his jacket on the couch and turns, crowding Ian against the door. “I need a shower.”

“And you want me to scrub your back?”

“No.” Mickey shakes his head and looks Ian up and down. “I want to suck you off and I’m really fucking good at multitasking.”

Ian laughs and pushes Mickey away from him, heading for the bedroom. He strips his t-shirt off, but before Mickey has time to admire his back muscles, he gets hit in the face with Ian’s shirt. “Prove it.”

**

Mickey naked has quickly becomes Ian’s favorite thing in the world, surpassing both chocolate cake and cookie dough ice cream the first time he slid his tongue down Mickey’s spine and cradled his thumbs in the dimples above Mickey’s ass.

It takes Mickey longer since he has to strip off his boots and layers, so Ian gets to stand there after turning the water on and watch Mickey undress. He can feel the slow burn of his cock hardening as he gets treated to more and more skin.

“What the hell are you gawking at?” Mickey’s eyebrow is just as expressive as his voice, a mixture of humor and embarrassment. 

“You.” Ian shrugs because, for him, the word sums everything up.

“Get in the fucking shower, shithead.” Ian grins and opens the door, stepping inside and groaning as the hot water hits him. Mickey follows him in and hisses. “Christ, are you fucking cold-blooded? Turn that shit down.”

“You don’t like it hot, Mick?” Mickey just gives Ian a knowing look and places one hand on the wall for balance as he sinks to his knees.”Not sure how clean you’re going to get down th-” Ian gets cut off as Mickey wraps his mouth around him. He keeps his eyes on Mickey, watching him curl his fingers around the base of Ian’s dick then pulls back so just the tip is in his mouth, sucking at the head.

The suction is perfect and Mickey tongues the slit, spreading the opening just enough to send rough shivers down Ian’s back. Ian grabs the top of the shower door as the sensation builds, but then Mickey is gone and Ian feels cold despite the hot water. Mickey’s name is on his lips, but then Mickey’s hand starts moving him. It’s not hard or fast or tight enough, so Ian makes a sound that he absolutely refuses to think of as a whimper, trying to thrust into Mickey’s hand.

Mickey looks up at Ian with a shit-eating grin, licks his lips and takes Ian deep in his mouth again. Ian groans and his hips jerk forward. Mickey hums around him and then mouth and hand are moving together, moving in opposite directions, meeting in the middle.

Ian’s forehead falls against his raised arm, catching the tight whiteness of his knuckles out of the corner of his eye. The steam rises up around him, and Ian’s getting lightheaded, short of breath. His free hand clenches and unclenches next to his thigh, and his hips roll in time with each tight swallow of Mickey’s throat.

“O-oh,” Ian moans. “M-m-mickey. God. Don’t. Don’t stop.” Ian barely registers Mickey’s hand on his hip, the work-roughened palm leaving trails of sensation as it slides over Ian’s hip. “Never...” Ian gives in and fists his hand in Mickey’s hair, keeping him still as Ian thrusts hard and comes, his eyes closed. Mickey keeps sucking, keeps swallowing as aftershocks wrack Ian’s body. Finally Ian digs his nails into Mickey’s head and pulls him back.

Ian lets go of the shower door and sinks to his knees before they simply give way. Mickey’s mouth feels hot and swollen when Ian kisses him, hard and deep, tasting himself on Mickey’s tongue. When Ian pulls back a few minutes later, he twists slightly and sits on the shower floor, his leg muscles twitching.

Mickey pushes the shower control down to shut off the water, then he rests his head on Ian’s shoulder. Ian reaches around to stroke Mickey’s back and turns his head to press a kiss on the top of Mickey’s head.

“You...” Ian pauses and licks his lips. “You _are_ very good at multitasking.”

Mickey’s laugh is hot against Ian’s shoulder, but not as hot as the kiss he follows it with. “Staying here tonight?”

“Not sure how late I’ll be, but yeah. Said we’d talk.”

“Right.” Mickey levers himself to his feet and Ian stares at Mickey’s still hard cock.

“You didn’t...”

“Can return the favor later.” Mickey’s smile promises something that Ian doesn’t recognize, but knows he wants. “Wanna wait.”

“Mick,” he breathes.

“You want me to wait?” His voice promises even more.

Ian nods dumbly or maybe it’s a dumb question. “About...about my reward...for my homework?”

“Yeah?”

“Not tonight. After the dinner. If you still want to then.” He skates his fingertips down Mickey’s thigh just before he steps out of a shower and grabs a towel. 

“You’re convinced your family’s going to scare me off, aren’t you?”

“It’s happened before.”

Mickey leans in and looks Ian in the eye. “Yeah, well. It’s never been me before.”

Ian watches Mickey walk out of the bathroom and pushes himself to his hands and knees, breathing for a bit before he attempts getting to his feet. He grabs the wall as he stumbles out, leaning against it as his head swims. Mickey ducks back in the bathroom, fully dressed, and kisses Ian quickly.

“See you tonight.”

Ian nods and blows out a breath, watching Mickey’s ass as he walks away. He waits until he hears the front door shut before grabbing his phone from his pants, stumbling to Mickey’s bed to call the club. He can barely walk. There’s no way in hell he’s dancing tonight.

He eventually manages to get his homework done, though it gets harder and harder to concentrate as it edges closer to three AM. He hears the key n the door and quickly moves his books to the floor beside the bed.

“Ian?”

“In here.”

“In my bed, huh?” Mickey stops at the door and smiles. “My second favorite place for you to be.”

Ian cocks an eyebrow. “What’s the first?”

Mickey strips down to his boxers and crawls up the bed, crawls up Ian’s body. He straddles him before leaning in for a kiss.” Hmm. Actually, it’s the third. Right after my ass and my mouth.”

Ian wraps his hand around the nape of Mickey’s neck and kisses him slowly. He takes his time exploring Mickey’s mouth like he’s never tasted it before. When they break apart, they’re both breathless.

“Talk now?” Mickey whispers against Ian’s mouth, following it with a light kiss. He rocks down and grinds against Ian’s dick. “Or talk later?”

Ian scratches Mickey’s neck. “Now.” He waits while Mickey climbs off of him, sitting next to him on the bed by Ian’s hip, legs crossed, eyes serious.

“Okay. I’m listening.”

“I’m...Okay, um, I’m bipolar.”

Mickey nods. “I know.”

“It’s manic-depression. Extreme. I’m okay. Stable. I...what?”

“I know.”

“You know? How do you know?”

“You disappear every morning for fifteen minutes. You always come back eating a piece of toast, even if we’re doing something for breakfast. So you have to take your pills with food.”

“Taking pills doesn’t make someone bipolar.”

“No. But taking Lithium, olanzapine, Prozac, and something else I can’t pronounce does.”

Anger and shame are like a flash flood, and Ian knows his face is red. “You fucking snooped around my apartment?”

“You snooped around here when I was sick.”

“I didn’t look in your fucking medicine cabinet!”

Mickey shrugs, which makes Ian more angry. “First rule of breaking in and looking for drugs. People keep their medicine in their medicine cabinets. Hence the name.”

“You were looking for _drugs_?”

“No. Christ, Ian.” Mickey runs both his hands through his hair then holds both of them out, palms down. “Where do you think I got these?”

“I don’t know. Tattoo parlor?”

“No, Ian. Because no tattoo parlor would do shit like this, this bad. I got these in juvie. Juvenile detention.”

“I know what fucking juvie is.”

“I told you my dad died in prison and my brothers in a bank robbery. One _I_ was supposed to be in on. Old habits die hard.”

“You...” Ian sighs and shakes his head. “I...”

Mickey blows out a slow exhale. “Right.” He nods and gets off the bed. “I gotta piss. I’ll see you if you’re still here when I come back.”

He shuts the bathroom door behind him. Ian stares after him and then grabs his books, shutting the door silently when he goes.

**

“Why did you fucking tell him you knew?” Mandy slaps Mickey upside the head. “Why didn’t you just let him tell you?”

“Because it was obviously hard for him, and I thought he’d fucking realize that it hadn’t made a fucking difference to me.” Mickey sighs and takes a sip of his coffee. “Because I’m an idiot. Because it’s complete and utter bullshit that I can have a good thing.”

“Cut that shit out. Feeling fucking sorry for yourself.”

“Yeah,” Mickey snaps. He knows it’s not Mandy’s fault, but he’s tired of taking it out on himself. “I am. Because I fucking like him, Mandy. Because the stupid asshole got under my goddamn skin. Because...” Mickey presses the heel of his hand against his eye, forehead cradled by his fingers. “Because I thought...”

“Mickey.” She puts her hand on his arm, but he jerks away.

“Because I thought I had a chance. I thought maybe...Maybe I earned it. Deserved it. Maybe I wasn’t like Dad and Iggy and Colin and Tony.”

“You’re _not_ like them.”

“I am enough.” He rubs his eye harder until his vision goes white. “What do you think of Indiana?”

“No. No. You’re not fucking moving again, and you’re sure as _fuck_ not moving out of state.”

“He’s my next-door neighbor.” Mickey tosses his nearly full coffee in the trash. “What’d Terry always say? Don’t shit where you eat?”

“Well, dad didn’t know about rimming, obviously.”

“Ew. Fuck, Mandy.” He full-body shudders and makes a gagging noise. “Fuck.”

Mandy laughs and bumps her shoulder to his. “Don’t move to fucking Indiana, asshole.”

“We could switch apartments. He likes you. You like him. Problem solved.”

“Except your apartment is a shit hole.”

Mickey sighs. “I’ll cull the books again. Make it easier to move.”

“Or you could talk to him.”

“And say what? ‘I violated your trust, but maybe we could still fuck?’”

“It might work.”

“Which part of ‘I like him’ sounds like I want to be fucking fuck-buddies with him? Like that’d be okay? Like that’d be enough?”

“Oh. Shit.” Mandy’s eyes go wide. “Oh, shit, Mickey.”

“What?”

She starts laughing and doesn’t stop even with Mickey demanding that she tell him what’s so funny, even when tears ruin her make-up.

Mickey huffs, pissed off. “Fuck you then.”

“You...” She gasps, trying to get her breath back. “You’re in love with him.”

“Fuck you,” he spits out. “The fuck I am. What the fuck do you know?”

“Oh, Mick.” She comes over and hugs him, her voice soft. “Oh, Mick. I’m sorry.”

It’s like the last nail in the coffin. Mandy’s a romantic despite everything in their lives. She hides it, but she is, and she just as much said whatever it was he had with Ian is over. He swallows the thickness in his throat, almost choking on it. He sniffs and rubs his fist under his nose. “Maybe Ohio.”

Mandy nods. “I hear it’s nice this time of year.”

They don’t say anything else the rest of the way to his apartment or when she hugs him extra tight at the front of the building. His chest feels like all his ribs are broken, like their jagged ends are piercing his internal organs. His brain feels like it’s in high gear in the mud, spinning his wheels. Notice at both jobs. Liquor boxes from the club. There’s a checklist of the books he won’t leave behind in his head. He can leave the bookcases. Leave all of it. Even the new goddamned couch.

Maybe he’ll just leave that outside Ian’s door.

“Hey.”

Mickey snaps his head to the left. Ian’s standing in his doorway, dressed up in dark slacks and a fawn-colored shit. “Hey. You look nice.” His voice doesn’t waver. He grew up with the self-preservation ability to hide his emotions, not to let anything show. “Date?”

“Yeah. Kind of.”

“Oh.” All the oxygen disappears, sucked out of the hallway, and Mickey can’t breathe.

“With you. If you still want to go.”

“Go?” He frowns for a moment, then understands. “Go meet your family?”

“Yeah. I haven’t...I never said anything to them about it. Us.” He laughs humorlessly. “Just wasn’t up to hearing ‘I told you so’.”

“So if I got to dinner, you can blame it on them?” Mickey nods. “You can’t just tell them I fucked up? That’s not on you.”

“You don’t know my family.” Ian shrugs. “It’s okay. I really didn’t expect you to say yes.”

“I’ll do it.” Mickey bites his bottom lip. “Give me a few minutes to change?”

“Yeah.” Ian steps back into his apartment. “Just knock when you’re ready to go.”

Mickey nods and hurries into his apartment, digging for something to wear. He finds some khaki slacks that he doesn’t remember buying, and grabs a dark blue shirt out of the closet. He combs wet fingers through his hair, and hurries next door. He’s finishing doing up the last couple buttons of his shirt when Ian opens the door.

“That was quick.”

“Figured you didn’t want to be late.”

Ian nods as he shuts and locks the door. They’re silent through the train ride and the walk through Canaryville. Mickey’s hit with a wave of something like nostalgia. This isn’t his neighborhood, but it’s close enough. It’s a damn good thing it isn’t too, because Mickey’s positive that, if he’d grown up around Ian, he’d have ended up stupid and dead.

“Two sisters, three brothers.”

Mickey starts at Ian’s voice. “What?”

“I have two sisters. Fiona’s the oldest. Debbie’s kind of the middle.”

“Fiona and Debbie.”

“Then there’s Lip. Well, Philip, but no one calls him that. Just Lip. He’s second oldest, a year older than me. He’s smart. Never been tested, but his IQ is scary.”

“Lip. Got it.”

“Carl. He’s the troublemaker. Probably be labeled a sociopath, but he loves his family and would do anything for us, so...well, let’s say sociopathic leanings. Drug dealer. Petty theft. Nothing too bad.”

“I know the type. Was that type.”

“Then Liam. He’s the baby. He’s black. Well, his skin is black. Not sure how he’d identify himself.”

“Fiona, Lip, Ian, Debbie, Carl, Liam.” Mickey stops walking. “Hey, Ian?”

Ian turns around, looking wary. “What?”

“I don’t know your last name.”

Ian smiles and then starts laughing. “Guess we sort of skipped that part.” He holds out his hand. “Ian Gallagher.”

“Mickey Milkovich.”

“Nice to meet you. In the less-biblical sense of the word.”

Mickey wants to say something, but they’re interrupted as three kids come barreling down the stoop a couple of houses down. Ian jogs forward and meets them halfway in a huge, noisy group hug. “Missed you dorks.”

“Dork is a whale penis.”

Carl – Mickey assumes it’s Carl – smacks Liam lightly on the back of the head. “Ian’s gay. He knows all about penises.”

“Only human ones, Carl.” He looks back and extends his hand toward Mickey.

Debbie – redhead, looks like Ian – follows Ian’s gaze and laughs. “Speaking of...”

“Debs!”

Mickey raises his eyebrows and shrugs. “Nicest way I’ve ever been called a dick.”

“Come on.” Debbie waves Mickey toward them. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Ian lets his siblings go ahead, waiting for Mickey. Mickey takes Ian’s still-extended hand and Ian laces their fingers together. “Pretty sure I saw this in a movie once. Pretending to be boyfriends. Well, no. Not boyfriends because guys only like girls in the movies. But a couple.” Mickey doesn’t add that this particular plot line almost always ends happily, but it hangs there. 

“Yeah,” Ian agrees. “But life’s not like the movies.” Ian releases Mickey’s hand and bounds up the stairs. Mickey follows more slowly, taking a deep breath before following Ian inside.

Definitely not like the movies.

Maybe a horror film.

There’s constant noise and Fiona’s apparently a hugger. There are inside jokes and conversations cut short by looks. The neighbors come over with twin girls and twin bottles of Jack. Mickey can feel people looking at him, checking him out. Liam actually comes right out and says it, pretending to give him a tour to the bathroom before questioning him on his intentions toward Ian.

Mickey needs a drink and a cigarette and a gun to blow his fucking brains out. Lip comes up with him a couple hours into it with the offer of the first two, and Mickey follows him out of the kitchen and onto the back porch. Turns out Lip means a joint, which is even better. Mickey holds the smoke in his longs as long as he can, then exhales some and swallows the rest down with whiskey then hands the joint over to Lip

“So. You and Ian are neighbors.”

“Yeah. Same hours mostly, but we never met until the fire alarm.”

Lip nods. “Ian’s a nice guy.”

“He’s a great guy.” Mickey takes another drink. “So is this where you give me the whole ‘you hurt my brother and I’ll kill you’ speech?”

“I figured that was a given. South side rules and all that.”

Mickey nods and takes the joint back from Lip to take another hit. “I’m not following then.”

“Ian’s sick.” Lip shrugs. “Not like dying sick, but sick.”

“Okay.”

“Mentally sick.”

“Wow. I owe Ian fifty bucks.”

Lip’s mouth opens and then closes. It opens again, but it takes him a few moments to actually say something. “What?”

Mickey hands the joint back to Lip and drains his glass. “I didn’t believe him when he said you’d try and tell me he’s crazy. Guess I bet against the house.” The lie rolls off his tongue, and he’s not sure if it’s because he’s defending Ian or because Lip pisses him off on principle.

“I didn’t say he was crazy.”

“Yeah? What exactly does ‘mentally sick’ mean then?”

“He has a disorder.”

“Okay. And that’s not your way of saying crazy nicely?”

Lip’s eyes narrow, and Mickey just licks his lips and cocks an eyebrow, waiting for Lip’s answer. “He’s bipolar.”

Mickey shrugs. “I know. He told me.”

Lip takes another minute to actually say something, and Mickey can tell that whatever Lip expected, it wasn’t this. “Ian tends to downplay it. He’s on meds, but that doesn’t mean he won’t have...episodes. New med adjustments. And when that happens, he can be...”

“Yeah. I know. I read up on it.”

“Reading isn’t the same as living.”

“So...what are you saying exactly? Ian shouldn’t ever be with anyone? Or is there a pre-screening process where you have to have bipolar experience? Like, that’s a prerequisite?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Actually, it kind of is.” Mickey huffs a laugh laced with disbelief, since beating the shit out of Ian’s brother is probably not the best idea. “I like Ian. A lot. And I’m really sorry I’m just some blue colar guy and not a fucking shrink or something so you think I can’t handle it.”

“You have no idea, you stupid prick,” Lip snaps. “Catatonic. Running around fucking strangers. Suicidal.”

“If you’re so fucking worried about him, how come you let him live alone? Why don’t you have him committed? Why don’t you have power of attorney?” Mickey clenches his fists, pushing down the urge to fight. “He has a doctor. I see signs, I get him to go.”

“You’re going to recognize the signs?”

“Yeah.” Mickey shrugs, his voice absolutely sure. “Plus, you have lunch with him every fucking week. He talks to Fiona on the phone every fucking morning.” Mickey’s voice gets softer, more dangerous, especially in comparison to Lip raising his. “It’s not like I’m going to lock him in a fucking room and never let him out. Jesus.” He exhales roughly. “Look, I get wanting to protect your family. I do. But Ian’s not an invalid or a fucking imbecile. Why don’t you just have some fucking faith in him?”

“Because I was _here_ last time.”

“And Ian won’t let you, because he’s stronger than you think he is. He’s smarter than you think he is. He’s a fuck load braver than you think he is.” 

Lip’s hand curls around the railing. “You’d better hope I don’t have to fucking say I told you so.”

“Don’t worry. Pretty sure I’m going to be fucking saying it to you.” Mickey raises an eyebrow in challenge. His palms burn from digging his nails into them. “We done here?”

“Yeah.” Lip doesn’t actually sneer, but his voice makes it clear that’s exactly what he intends. 

“Good.” Mickey turns on his heel and stops. The door is open and Ian’s leaning on the counter watching them. Mickey wonders vaguely if Lip left it open on purpose, knowing Ian would hear. Thinking he’d hear something else than what Mickey had to say. “Hey.”

Ian nods and pushes off the counter. He walks over to Mickey and Mickey braces himself, unsure of what reaction he’s going to get. Ian stops in front of Mickey, head tilted down so he’s looking Mickey in the eyes. His voice is a whisper, almost as soft as the hands he uses to frame Mickey’s face. “Hey.”

“I was kind of a dick to your brother.”

Ian laughs, the sound fanning over Mickey’s lips. “He was kind of a dick to you, so he deserved it. I’m not sure I deserve you.”

“What did I tell you about putting yourself down, asshole?”

“Kiss me?”

Mickey really doesn’t need to be asked twice. “Yeah.”


End file.
